One Day More
by Lothelen
Summary: Amaryllis Bracegirdle wasn't particularly intelligent, talented or extraordinary, but when she's thrown into the adventure of a lifetime after befriending Merry, Pippin, and their fascinating cousin Frodo, she discovers that there may be more to her than meets the eye after all. Slow Frodo/OC. Starts pre-quest, tenth walker. Please give us a chance, precious!
1. Silly Sisters and Pranks

**One Day More: Silly Sisters and Pranks**

**A/N: Trying my hand at a Frodomance because I've always had a bit of a soft spot for Elijah Wood's eyes. This won't be updated that frequently compared to my other story, No Malls in Middle Earth, since I'm doing it mainly as an experiment. I want to try my hand at a slow, sweet romance. It will most likely be a tenth walker with Mary-Sueish tendencies, but still give it a try and feel free to read and review. Movie verse, but starts pre-quest.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Lord of the Rings, and never will, so don't sue!**

Most hobbits in Hardbottle were surprised that Amaryllis Bracegirdle turned out as well as she did, considering that she had created more trouble as a child than every other hobbit lad and lass in the town put together. Her mother called it a miracle and her father called it sheer dumb luck, because somehow she managed to cast aside her adventurous tendencies and learned how to behave like a mature hobbit should.

The Bracegirdles were long acknowledged as a line of fine tailors and seamstresses, and Amaryllis was no exception, happily settling into the family business quietly and without a fuss once her wild side extinguished itself. She wasn't of age like her two older sisters and therefore not permitted to actually work, but contented herself with practicing mending and sewing her own clothes on quiet mornings and helping out with an odd job every now and then when her parents were feeling overwhelmed.

It was on one such morning that her eldest sister Acacia burst into their modestly sized smial, bright-eyed and practically glowing with excitement.

"Mother! Mother, you won't believe what has happened!" she immediately exclaimed, causing Amaryllis to look up with mild interest from the handkerchief she was embroidering. It had a picture of a singing teakettle and was to become a present for her mother.

"Did April push you out of a tree again?" she asked, innocently keeping her eyes on her sewing when her sister glowered.

"Oh, grow up Ama, that was _ages _ago," she snapped, more than a little reluctant to recall the incident. "As a matter of fact, that's not what happened today!" She pursed her lips as if expecting Amaryllis to beg her to divulge whatever exciting information she had to offer.

"You know I hate being called that," Amaryllis replied tonelessly, "And I can't deny I'm a little surprised no one tried to maim you while you were out. I know _I _want to half the time."

Acacia made a very unladylike hand gesture before promptly ignoring her youngest sister.

"Mother, honestly, you simply _have _to hear this!" she tried again. A moment later, Azalea Bracegirdle trudged wearily in the kitchen, finally unable to avoid seeing what the fuss was about.

Azalea was as good a mother as any, and as an extremely family-oriented hobbit she raised her three daughters the same way her grandmother raised her: Strong, well mannered, and not afraid of hard work. She herself was rather plain and had never learned to read or write, but she could work a needle and thread better than any other hobbit in Hardbottle, a skill she took great pride in.

"What is it this time, Acacia?" she asked with a sigh. "Another lad?"

Ever since she had come of age, Acacia had taken to walking down to Hobbiton when her work as a seamstress was done and flirting with every good-looking (and not so good-looking) lad she laid eyes on. Her mother accepted her new interest in romance like she did everything else; with weary resignation and a silent prayer that her two younger daughters would have a couple of more years before they became interested in such things.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Acacia said with a sniff. Amaryllis discreetly rolled her eyes. Here came another exaggerated tale. Sure enough, Acacia continued with much enthusiasm. "I was looking at some perfectly lovely hair ribbons when that wonderful Folco Boffin crossed my path. He offered to take me for a brief stroll and picked me some flowers." She proudly displayed a bunch of slightly crushed petunias. "He even said I may meet him tomorrow. Oh, mother, it was so romantic."

"That's what you said last week about the Proudfoot boy. And the week before about that other lad. Forgive me for not remembering the name, it's hard to keep track when there are so many," Amaryllis pointed out perhaps a little too snottily, for her mother cast her a reproachful glance.

"Amaryllis, please at least make an attempt to curb that tongue of yours." Turning back to her eldest daughter, she offered a warm smile. "I'm happy for you dear. It's wonderful that you're already thinking about settling down."

Acacia beamed proudly. "Well, I have been told I would make a lovely bride," she said. Amaryllis snorted.

"This is your last warning before you lose afternoon tea, Amaryllis," her mother said in her no-nonsense voice. Amaryllis dutifully bit back a retort by chewing hard on her bottom lip. Her sister's bragging and boastings practically begged for a sharp comment.

"I'm sorry Acacia," she said in a monotone, hoping to regain some favor. Losing afternoon tea was a dreadful grievance for a young hobbit. "You _would _make a lovely bride," she added for good measure, complete with a sugary smile.

"Thank you, Ama," Acacia said primly, and Amaryllis grit her teeth. "Oh mother, I simply must go back tomorrow and see him again. He said he may even buy me those hair ribbons I was admiring."

"Of course you may dear, just as long as it doesn't take all day," their mother said agreeably. "Please be careful though. You're still young, you have plenty of time to find love."

Acacia waved a hand in dismissal. "Yes, yes, I know, but honestly, I'll be perfectly alright. Folco really is special, you know…" she breezed passed them and into the kitchen. "I'll be in my room. Tell me when it's time for tea."

Amaryllis let out a quiet chuckle as soon as her sister was out of earshot. Her mother sat down next to her with a huff.

"She's going to have her heart broken if she carries on like that," she said worriedly. "Please promise me I have a little more time before _you _start letting lads bark up your tree."

Amaryllis shuddered in horror. "I certainly hope so," she said fervently. "I can't imagine acting like _that_. Doesn't she know how silly she looks?"

"She's just eager to grow up," said her mother sadly. "She'll mellow as she gets older. At least you and April are still reasonably sensible."

As if on cue April came through the door, followed by their father, Hugo Bracegirdle. He removed his hat tiredly and mopped his ruddy face. Their mother stood up quickly to give him a chaste kiss.

"Long day?" she asked when they broke apart.

"I swear, those Sackville-Bagginses and their ridiculous requests will be the death of me. You ladies have your work cut out for you." Amaryllis rose to take her father's coat and hat, but was soon unable to speak when she was crushed in a rib-cracking hug.

"I made you something," April exclaimed when she broke away. She proudly presented a worn piece of parchment to Amaryllis, who winced as she massaged her chest. April was sturdier built than her two sisters, and her hugs had been known to cause severe bruising. Amaryllis squinted at the picture, making out an intricate design of carefully sketched flowers. April waited with baited breath in anticipation of her little sister's verdict.

"Excellent likeness," said Amaryllis, stroking her chin in faux-contemplation. 'The artist shows talent." April giggled happily.

"You like it then?" she asked. "I was going to draw some amaryllis blooms for you, but couldn't find any and they're much too hard to draw from memory."

"It's absolutely stunning, April," Amaryllis gushed. "Honestly, your drawings get more realistic every day." She sighed a little wistfully, feeling a twinge of envy. April was definitely the most talented of the three sisters with her excellent hand-eye coordination, and Amaryllis couldn't help but feel a little inferior in comparison. All she was good at was causing trouble and saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

"I'm starving," said their father, his stomach emitting a large growl. "Where's Acacia?"

"Oh, up in her room daydreaming about another lad from Hobbiton," answered their mother, mouth twitching in amusement. "Folco Boffin this time."

"Ah, well, the Boffins are as good a family as any," their father said distractedly. "Will we be having tea soon?"

"I'll go prepare something," said their mother, and both of them bustled into the kitchen. "April, come and give me a hand," she called, and April went to join her parents. Amaryllis felt a twinge of hurt that they didn't want her help as well. Deciding she was in desperate need of fresh air she headed outside.

Hartbottle was rockier than lush Hobbiton due to it being significantly to the North, but it was beautiful all the same. Amaryllis hiked her skirts up and plopped on the ground, breathing deeply. She could just make out the old oak tree she had once tried to build a tree house in. There hadn't been enough wood, and Amaryllis only realized she was desperately afraid of heights once she was faced with the prospect of climbing down to fetch some more. Her father had been terribly grumpy when he had to stop what he was doing to coax her down.

She absentmindedly plucked a dandelion from the chilled ground, blowing the seeds gently. They drifted away lazily, and Amaryllis watched as they danced on the breeze, unable to think of a wish. She had food, a roof over her head, and a family that loved her, and honestly, what more could a hobbit want? Reclining lazy, she closed her eyes, appreciating the peace and quiet—

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Amaryllis' head snapped up, and she turned wearily to see Acacia's scowling face.

"Sitting. Thinking. Nothing. Whatever you want to call it," she answered. "I thought you were in your room?" Acacia sniffed haughtily.

"I _was _in my room, but I decided to help mother with the tea, noticed _you _weren't there and found you out here, blowing dandelions. You know you aren't supposed to do that, Ama. Dandelions are weeds. If we spread the seeds they'll sprout up all over the place.

"What's wrong with having more dandelions?" asked Amaryllis. "I like them."

"Yes, well, you like a number of silly things, don't you?" sniped Acacia. Amaryllis wanted to mutter something along the lines of "I don't like you and you're silly" but thought better of it. She like her face how it was now, thank you very much.

"What do want anyway, Acacia?" she asked instead.

"I only thought that you would want to actually be useful for a change and actually help instead of sitting out here and spreading weeds," Acacia sniffed.

"I'm useful!" protested Amaryllis. "I clean up and cook sometimes."

"I wouldn't exactly call what you do in the kitchen cooking," said Acacia. "I believe the last pie you tried to make ended up with zucchini in it instead of fruit. How you managed to mess the recipe up that badly, I'll never know."

"So you're going down to Hobbiton tomorrow to see Folco, right?" asked Amaryllis, eager to change the subject.

"Yes…" Acacia answered a little hesitantly. "And you can keep all your snippy comments to yourself because what I do really isn't any of your business…"

"Relax," Amaryllis said soothingly, "I wasn't going to say anything. I just wanted to ask if maybe I could go with you?" She really could use a change in scenery. Acacia looked mildly suspicious.

"Why? Are you up to no good again, Ama? I swear, if this is a prank I'm going to—"

"I'm not setting up an elaborate scheme to humiliate you, calm down," Amaryllis reassured her. "Honestly, what kind of a sister do you think I am? Don't you trust me?" She flashed a dazzling look-how-sweet-I-am smile.

"No," said Acacia bluntly. "After all, it wouldn't be the first time you set me up for embarrassment. I suppose you may come, but only if you behave yourself and mother doesn't need you."

"Thank you Acacia," Amaryllis chirped. "I promise you won't regret it."

"Somehow I doubt that," Acacia said ruefully. "Come along now, it's time for tea." Tempted by the promise of seed cakes and other treats, the two hobbits headed inside.

The next day was lovely and bright and Amaryllis hopped out of bed with more enthusiasm than usual, dressing quickly and barely bothering to pull a comb through her hair before bounding into the kitchen. Acacia, April, and her parents were already seated at the table, eating breakfast.

"Well, you certainly look excited," her mother commented, barely looking up from a letter she was writing to some distant relation in Nobottle. Acacia gave her sister a skeptical once-over.

"Honestly Ama, did you even brush your hair?" she asked exasperatedly. "It looks like a small rodent is nesting in there." Amaryllis glared.

"Small rodents are adorable. And I did brush it, as a matter of fact," she protested. "And don't call me Ama." Acacia remained stubborn.

"Rats are adorable then? Honestly Ama, you're hopeless. No lad is going to give you a second glance if you run around looking like you just rolled out of bed. As soon as you're done eating I'm brushing your hair for you."

"Maybe I don't care if lads give me a second glance or not," Amaryllis pointed out. To her dismay, her mother sided with her sister.

"Acacia's right, Amaryllis. What people think of you is important, and keeping a nice public appearance is good for our reputation." Amaryllis let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Fine. But she's only allowed to brush it, none of those silly pins and ribbons. I'm not a doll."

Soon the family finished eating and Amaryllis reluctantly permitted her older sister to fiddle around with her hair. After five minutes she grew fidgety, and ignoring her parents' sighs of how impatient she was, Amaryllis promptly dragged her sister out her door and on their way.

"Honestly, can't you slow down a little? You know I don't walk that fast, Ama," Acacia chided, huffing unattractively. Amaryllis stopped in mid-skip and began to take exaggeratedly tiny steps. Sticking her nose in the air, she waved her hips the same way Acacia had taken to lately.

Her eldest sister didn't take kindly to being mocked. "I do not walk like that! Honestly, if you're just going to be rude we can turn around right now and head right back home…"

"NO!" shouted Amaryllis, frightening a flock of birds into the sky. "No. I'm sorry, I'll be nice." Giving her behind one last wiggle she resignedly straightened her spine and walked normally.

It was horribly frustrating having to walk at such a slow pace on a lovely spring morning, and Amaryllis could barely contain herself from sprinting or leaping into the air like she was a bird herself. Instead she remained content with appreciating the increasingly green scenery as they approached Hobbiton and happily breathing in the fresh air.

"Now, listen up Ama," Acacia began with her typical air of superiority. "Folco and his family live in Bagshot Row, and after I meet him there we will be going for a walk. You aren't allowed to go anywhere I'm not, so do _not _wander off!"

"I know, I know," Amaryllis sighed wearily, "Can I at least provide an amusing commentary for you two lovebirds? It will liven the experience, I'm sure."

"No!" Acacia exclaimed adamantly. "Why do you always have to make things so difficult? This really isn't that hard, you know. All you have to do is stick by me and keep your over-sized mouth shut. Sound too difficult?"

"My mouth is _not_ oversized!" shrieked Amaryllis indignantly. "It's not nearly as big as yours with all that silly stuff you spew about boys and love and—"

"I rest my case," said Acacia smoothly. "Now if you would mind not frightening everything within a mile with your exceptionally powerful vocal chords, we're almost there."

Hobbiton was as bustling and cheerful as always, and Amaryllis found herself sorely wishing she could ditch her stick-in-the-mud sister and explore on her own. New places (well not that new, but still a welcome change from Hardbottle) tended to bring out her long dormant adventurous side, and the young hobbit was already scoping out exactly which trees she would love to climb if she didn't possess her silly fear of heights.

Acacia's exaggerated walk had become ten times more noticeable as she approached her newest suitor's smial, and Amaryllis held back a snicker when several older hobbit women gave her an odd look as she strutted past. In a sudden stroke of luck, two fat hobbits pulling a reluctant pig passed between the two sisters, temporarily blocking Amaryllis from view. Seizing the opportunity, Amaryllis pretended to trip over a stone, tumbling off the path and rolling down the grassy slope before landing with a small "oof".

For a second she just laid there, skirts bunched up all around her and looking thoroughly undignified. She could just make out her sister's worried calls from the path and felt a surge of satisfaction at her small rebellion. The grass was awfully soft, and the sky looked so pretty that she really didn't want to move—

"What's this? A damsel in distress? Look here, Pippin, it seems we have stumbled upon a lovely lady!" Amaryllis snapped up at the sound of the voice, nervously smoothing her skirts. Looking up apprehensively, she saw a hobbit lad around her age smiling mischievously down at her. Warily, she played along with his words.

"I'm no lady and I'm certainly not lovely, but I am in distress. I took a small tumble and seem to be separated from my dear sister," she said slowly, fighting to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

"Lost then? Well, you certainly don't look too upset about it, the way you were grinning. Would you like some help finding your sister?" the hobbit said, smiling knowingly.

"No!" Amaryllis exclaimed a little too quickly, causing the hobbit to raise an eyebrow. "I mean, I'm sure I'll be able to find her myself."

"Why search for her on your own when you have help? After all, it wouldn't be very chivalrous of us not to assist a lovely lady in need, would it Pip?" he asked with a grin, and the hobbit called Pippin came into view. He was sandy-haired and was sporting a goofy grin that made Amaryllis want to smile back.

"No it wouldn't, Merry," Pippin agreed. "Unless, of course, you don't want to find her." Amaryllis sighed, knowing there was no fooling these two.

"Yes well, I at least have to pretend I'm missing her or I'll be in a ridiculous amount of trouble," she said resignedly. Both hobbits raised in eyebrow in union.

"Ah, so you purposely fell down a hill to escape your dreadful sister," said Merry. "I remember Pippin here doing the same thing on numerous occasions. But perhaps before we hear more, some proper introductions are in order? I'm Meriadoc Brandybuck, at your service." He gave a short bow. "Please call me Merry."

"And I'm Peregrin Took, at your service," said Pippin, and Amaryllis raised her eyebrows. Both the Tooks and Brandybucks were significantly more important families than the Bracegirdles. Indeed, Pippin must be the only son of the Thain, and Thain-to-be himself. Feeling more than a little self-conscious, Amaryllis leapt to her feet.

"Amaryllis Bracegirdle," she said, offering a slightly clumsy curtsy. As an after-thought she added, "Please, don't call me Ama or I may be forced to maim you." Fearing that they would be offended, she clapped a hand over her mouth, but her worry was unfounded as both hobbits laughed.

"Ah, you hear that Merry? She may maim us. I'm frightened, terribly frightened." Pippin let out a fake swoon, leaving Merry to catch him, stumbling backwards.

"Gee, Pip, how many bricks did you have for breakfast this morning?" he asked exasperatedly.

"Only seven," Pippin said with an ear-splitting grin. "I do have _some _self-control, Merry." Amaryllis giggled. She liked these goofy, relaxed hobbits.

"Well, Miss Amaryllis," Merry began, offering her his arm. "Would you mind accompanying us on a walk? You can tell us all about this sister of yours." Amaryllis hooked her hand on his elbow gladly. She couldn't help but think of how jealous her sister would be if she could see silly, trouble-making Amaryllis taking a casual stroll with a Brandybuck and Took.

"Well, my sister Acacia met a lad named Folco Boffin yesterday and wanted to see him again," she began. Merry's eyes lit up in recognition.

"Oh, I know Folco. He's a friend," he said. "He's not quite as devilishly handsome and charming as Pip and me, but he's a good bloke." Amaryllis gazed at him skeptically.

"Devilishly handsome, huh? More like devilishly arrogant," she sniped, and Merry chuckled. "Well, my sister seems quite taken with him, for all she's done since yesterday is blab on and on about how dreamy he is," she continued, rolling her eyes.

"Dreamy? I think that's taking it a little far," Merry laughed. "I should know, I'm the very definition of the word."

Amaryllis leaned over and whispered conspiringly to Pippin, "Is he always this conceited?"

"Believe me, most of the time it's worse," he said knowingly. "I don't know who he thinks he's fooling anyways. Everyone knows _I'm _the good looking one." Amaryllis shook her head in amused exasperation.

"Anyways, I'm getting a little tired of constantly hearing her talk about how wonderful her life is now that she's found love. And when she's not doing that she's telling me to behave myself. I'm twenty-eight years old, I can look out for myself!" Amaryllis couldn't help but whine a little now that she had found herself a couple of avid listeners. Thankfully, Merry and Pippin didn't seem to mind.

"She sounds like a bore," Merry commented. "A little too eager for romance, huh? I've met girls like that. It's dreadfully annoying."

"Yeah!" chirped Pippin. "I feel your pain. I have three older sisters; Pervinca, Pimpernel, and Pearl. Pearl's settled down with a couple of children now, thank goodness, but Pimpernel and Pervinca are constantly giggling and preening." Amaryllis winced. It was bad enough having aggravating sister, but two was almost too horrifying to think about.

"Merry and I used to play horrible pranks on them. Cousin Frodo helped too, before his—" Merry made a silencing gesture and Pippin quickly shut his mouth, causing Amaryllis to look between them curiously.

"Never mind," he said quickly, "It's nothing to worry about. Anyways, we used to drive all three of them crazy. Once we managed to dye Pimpernel's hair with some ink while she was asleep. It took a week to wash it out."

"And remember that time we caught all those grasshoppers and put them in Pearl's bed? I think every hobbit in Tuckborough heard her screams," said Pippin, chuckling appreciatively.

"I learned several useful words after that one," Merry said thoughtfully. "Asked Da what they meant later on he turned red as a tomato. It was a nice change since he's usually so serious." Amaryllis giggled, recalling her own tales of inflicting evil upon her eldest sister.

"I used to torture poor Acacia out of her mind," she enthused. "Once I spoiled one of my mother's best cherry pies by putting it right outside Acacia's door. She stepped in it the next morning and had to soak her feet for an hour to get rid of the juice. My parents were furious." Merry nodded appreciatively.

"I must say, it's a shame you didn't grow up in Brandy Hall. We never tried a pie prank before," he said. "New ideas are always appreciated."

"What are you doing in the West Farthing anyway, Merry?" Amaryllis asked, hoping she wasn't being too nosy. "A little far from Buckland, aren't you?"

"We were going to visit our dear cousin Frodo and his Uncle Bilbo, but he seems he thinks we are up to no good as always and said that he was busy," Merry explained.

"Bilbo? Bilbo Baggins?" Amaryllis had heard tales of old mad Baggins, mainly from her parents as they quietly discussed Lobelia Sackville-Baggins' spiteful gossip.

"The very same," Pippin said. "And please don't tell us you believe all those stories about Bilbo being cracked. He's a little odd, definitely, but he has plenty of marvelous tales to tell and he's as smart as a whip." Pippin's voice was reverent, and Amaryllis could see the respect he held for the old hobbit.

"I've heard the normal stories, but I never really took the time to decide whether I believed them or not," she answered with a shrug.

"Well then, we shall have to introduce you so you at least have some honest information to go on before you go thinking he's crazy like the rest of these silly hobbits," Merry said. "I bet you'll get along splendidly with cousin Frodo."

Amaryllis felt a little rush of excitement that he seemed to think they might be meeting again. It was nice being able to talk to two hobbits that didn't mind that she didn't behave perfectly at every single second, especially since they weren't exactly on their best behavior themselves.

"We will be seeing each other again sometime?" she confirmed, and both hobbits smiled identical grins. They had looped back around and were a little ways south of Bagshot Row, which probably meant she should be off to face Acacia's wrath.

"Well, I would certainly hope so," responded Merry. "Or has our lovely walk together meant nothing to you?" He placed a hand over his heart and sniffed dramatically. Amaryllis rolled her eyes.

"I bet you say that to all the lasses." But she felt a twinge of sadness nonetheless that she had to leave so soon.

"I suppose I best be looking for Acacia. She's got to be around here somewhere," she said morosely.

"Hey, you can't ditch us that easily!" exclaimed Pippin. "We're staying with you until you find her." Grabbing her by both arms, they marched her up to the path. Merry struck a dramatic pose that made Amaryllis double over in giggles.

"Come Pippin, our quest has been set before us. We must return the fair Lady Amaryllis to her evil sister before the day is out!" He scanned the horizon before doing a double take. "Well, that's Folco. Is that your sister by any chance?"

Sure enough, Acacia was dragging poor Folco their way, her features fixed in a face that could curdle fresh milk. Folco looked like a nice enough fellow. He was plump and browned by the sun, like most hobbits, and had pleasant features. He looked rather frightened at the moment though as Acacia's nails were digging into his arm and her face was about as red as the setting sun.

"Amaryllis Bracegirdle, where have you been?" she shrieked. Amaryllis took a step back, and Merry and Pippin looked on in amusement.

"My, my, she looks rather worked up, doesn't she? Perhaps taking Miss Amaryllis on a lovely walk wasn't the best idea, Pip," Merry said.

Acacia continued to rant. "I gave you specific instructions to stay next to me and not cause trouble, and yet you still wandered off! With two strangers, by the looks of it!" She glared at Merry and Pippin, chest heaving in anger.

"They were actually trying to help me find you, Acacia," Amaryllis said. "I'm sorry I got separated from you, but I tripped and fell down a hill. If it weren't for Merry and Pippin here, I'd probably still be wandering around searching for you." She smiled innocently and hoped her two companions wouldn't blow her cover.

"Is that true?" she asked skeptically, well accustomed to her sister's cover-ups.

"Indeed it is, Miss Acacia," Merry confirmed, and Amaryllis shot him a grateful smile. Acacia frowned.

"Who are you two anyways?" she asked, looking them up and down.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck," Merry said with a bow, "Though I do prefer Merry."

"And Peregrin Took, at your service," Pippin jumped in with his characteristic goofy smile. "But you can call me Pippin or Pip." Acacia looked rather taken aback that a Brandybuck and a Took had willingly accompanied and conversed with her silly little sister.

"Acacia Bracegirdle. It's a pleasure, I'm sure," she finally said with a polite curtsy that was significantly more graceful than the one Amaryllis had attempted to execute earlier. "Thank you for looking after my sister. Now that we've found each other though, we really should be heading home."

"Can we stay a bit longer?" Amaryllis asked. "It's not even that late." Acacia gave her superior look.

"In case you have forgotten, Ama, Mother needs help mending that horrid Lobelia's dress and we certainly have no business standing around and socializing when there's work to be done," she said snottily.

"You were the one that wanted to come here and _socialize _with Folco in the first place," Amaryllis pointed out.

"Yes, and we had a splendid time," Acacia replied, not taking the hint. Standing on her hairy toes, she gave Folco a wet kiss on the cheek. He flushed a spectacular shade of maroon, and Amaryllis wrinkled her nose in disgust. Acacia glared.

"Jealous?" she asked, and Amaryllis muttered something rude under her breath. Merry raised his eyebrows.

"Strong language for a lady, Miss Amaryllis," he said loudly, causing her to elbow him discreetly in the gut. He let out a pained gasp. Pippin, fearing for his own safety, backed away.

"Well, it was a pleasure meeting both of you," he said to the two sisters. "Hope to see you again sometime soon," he said, this time only to Amaryllis. Merry, now recovered, nodded.

"Hopefully you will be feeling a little less hostile next time, one can hope," he said, dodging her retaliation nimbly.

"Ama!" Acacia exclaimed in horror. "You can't just go around hitting lads you've only just met!"

"If they make smart comments I can," Amaryllis responded defiantly. Pippin vouched for her.

"It's alright, Merry deserves a good knock now and again. Helps deflate his extremely large head." Merry crossed his arms and scowled.

"I _would _say what I'm thinking but for the continued well-being of my ribs I think it's best just to leave." Pippin nodded in agreement.

"Goodbye Amaryllis," he said cheerfully. "Look for us the next time you're in Hobbiton." And with that, the two hobbits ran off, laughing gleefully.

"Honestly, Ama, you befriend the strangest sorts," Acacia said with a shake of her head. "Well, come along now. No excuse to linger here now that those two are gone. Goodbye Folco! It was wonderful walking with you!"

She kissed him once more, grabbed Amaryllis by the hand and dragged her away, leaving Folco standing mutely, still rubbing the place where her lips met his cheek and looking thoroughly star-struck.

**A/N: Well, what do you think? Good? Okay? Worst thing you've ever read? Feel free to tell me in a review. If I got any geographical facts wrong, please inform me and I'll fix it. Tolkien never specified whether Hardbottle was in the North or South Farthing so I'm having it be North for the purposes of this story. I'm perfectly open to constructive criticism as long as it's polite, so please, please, please review! Thanks for reading!**


	2. Of Gophers and Cookies

**One Day More: Of Gophers and Cookies**

**A/N: Thank you so much for the two reviews! I've never gotten more than one on the first chapter before, so it means a lot to me. Just an FYI, I know that Bilbo technically doesn't finish his **_**Translations from the Elvish **_**until he's at Rivendell, but in this he's already started them and given them to Frodo to read. Please, please, pretty please read and review! I really appreciate the support.**

**Disclaimer: I will never own Lord of the Rings or any of the characters.**

Amaryllis didn't have a chance to look for Merry and Pippin again for another two weeks or so, but she heard about them plenty. Both her parents were extremely interested in the company she was keeping and tended to go on and on about how their youngest daughter had become acquainted with a Brandybuck and Took. Amaryllis rolled her eyes and told them to stop, but secretly she couldn't help but feel a bit pleased that they were paying attention to her. Not that she was terribly neglected of course, but usually the only time everyone focused on her was when she had created some sort of trouble.

Out of pure chance, Amaryllis ran into Pippin (although it was rather strange seeing him without Merry) and his cousin Frodo the next time she had a chance to go to Hobbiton. Her mother let her tag along on an errand, but rather than actually let Amaryllis accompany her while she attended to important business and risk having her youngest daughter embarrass herself, she instead planted Amaryllis by a tree and told her to stay put until she was back.

Amaryllis did try to stay put, even though it was horribly boring just sitting and staring at various hobbits going about their business, but fate was against her. As it happened, Pippin happened to passing through the little wooded area where she was planted, spotted her and immediately recognized her.

"Miss Amaryllis!" he called, and Amaryllis looked up, flattered that he actually remembered her name from their brief meeting.

"Hello," she said, suddenly a bit unsure of how exactly to make appropriate conversation with a chance acquaintance. To her surprise, Pippin plopped right down next to her and took a bite out of the delicious-looking apple he was holding.

"Did you lose your sister again?" he asked with a knowing grin. "Or is there another reason you're sitting beneath a tree and looking bored half to death?"

"Mother had some sort of business here. I have a tendency to say or do the wrong thing at the wrong time, so she decided it would be safest to leave me here until she finished," Amaryllis answered, not particularly embarrassed about the fact that her own mother didn't really trust her. Pippin definitely seemed the type to cause his parents a good deal of annoyance.

"So she stationed you here without anything to do until she's done?" Pippin said knowingly. "That's happened to me before, but usually if I'm extra nice I can come along."

"What are you doing out here?" asked Amaryllis. "Where's Merry?"

"Now, now, Miss Amaryllis, can't a lad have some secrets?" Pippin said with a mischievous smile. "For all you know I could have been on a top secret, dangerous mission. Merry is at Brandy Hall, most likely being bossed around by Aunt Esmie."

"Secret, dangerous mission, huh? Why not tell me? For all you know, I could be and elf warrior in disguise," Amaryllis said. Pippin looked at her skeptically.

"I'm afraid you're a little short," he pointed out, and Amaryllis blushed. She was small and scrawny, even by hobbit standards.

"Well, you aren't exactly a giant yourself," she retorted, and Pippin straightened his spine.

"I'm a perfectly respectable three foot six, I'll have you know," he said.

"Whatever you say, Pippin," she said, shaking her head. They fell into a comfortable silence, Pippin crunching on his apple and Amaryllis appreciating the scenery. Squinting, she noticed a small rodent scratching beneath a tree. It seemed to be some sort of gopher, though it could just as well be a squirrel. Amaryllis didn't have the best eyesight.

"Look!" she said, nudging Pippin on the arm and pointing. "How adorable!" Pippin looked up in mild disinterest, much more keen on finishing his snack than observing small animals.

"Cute enough, I suppose," he said, "But probably riddled with diseases." Amaryllis ignored him and stood.

"Do you think we could catch it? It looks friendly," she said, an idea forming. Pippin gave her an incredulous stare. The small creature scrunched its nose and sniffed, as if it sensed the danger of capture.

"You're crazy," Pippin said reverently. "There is no way in…it could bite you! Or pee on you!"

"A little gopher urine isn't going to do any damage," she said, now thoroughly excited at the prospect of bringing home the little bundle of fur. The practical side of her brain told her it was a stupid idea, but was quickly overruled by the much larger mischievous part. "And I'm sure he won't bite. Look how sweet and innocent he looks! Look at those eyes, Pippin! How can you not fall in love with those eyes?" The gopher thumped its back leg, now quite aware of the two young hobbits. Pippin looked doubtful.

"Just because it looks cute doesn't meet its nice," he said wisely. "After all, _I'm _adorable and I've bitten Merry before." Amaryllis looked at him oddly.

"I sincerely hope you mean when you were little," she said, mildly disturbed. "And anyways, you're not a gopher, Pippin. How do you know if he'll bite or not?"

"How do you know it's a he?" Pippin retorted, "And anyways, gophers are more likely to bite than hobbits. Besides, if he does bite you it could become infected." He shuddered, picturing a crusty, icky wound oozing pus and blood. Amaryllis remained undeterred.

"Not if you clean it properly it won't," she said, though she wasn't entirely positive. She knew next to nothing about medicine. Pippin shook his head in exasperation.

"I think I've learned my lesson about befriending strange hobbit lasses," Pippin said. "You know, old Bilbo warned Merry and me about Bracegirdles. Said half of them are loony old grumps that breed like rabbits…"

Amaryllis was deeply offended, although it was true that her mother had been one of seven children. "That's a little rich coming from him," she sniped. Pippin gave her a look of disgust.

"Don't you talk that way about Bilbo! He's ten times smarter than anyone in your family!" he snapped. Amaryllis opened her mouth to retort, but realized that he was probably right. She certainly wasn't the sharpest knife in the door, and her parents and sisters weren't much better. Deciding that arguing probably wouldn't accomplish much, she settled on puppy-dog eyes and shameless begging.

"Please, Pippin! I'll be you're best friend forever if you help me," she pleaded, attempting to make the same adorable expression as the gopher. Pippin just smirked.

"Sorry, already taken by Merry. I don't need an insane best friend anyway," he said, crossing his arms. Amaryllis attempted to twitch her nose like a rabbit and succeeded in looking like she had a nasty itch.

"I'll clean for you. I'll wash your foot hair. I'll cook for you!" she offered. Pippin's interest was sparked.

"What can you cook?" he asked. Amaryllis thought for a moment. Her attempts at making (or even handling) pie had all ended in disaster, the last time she had attempted to make dinner she acquired some nasty third-degree burns, and most cakes she baked ended either collapsed or used as a torture device for Acacia.

"I can make…cookies!" she said enthusiastically. Cookies weren't too challenging to make, were they? Mother made delicious ones all the time, so why couldn't she? All she would have to do was follow a recipe, and that wasn't too difficult.

"What kind?" Pippin asked, still not convinced. Amaryllis thought hard, trying to remember what specific types of cookies there were.

"Uh…Gingersnaps?" Pippin shook his head. "Sugar? Lemon almond?"

"Yeah, those!" Pippin said enthusiastically. "Okay, so if I help you catch that stupid gopher, you have to make me cookies."

"Sounds fair to me," Amaryllis agreed, before realizing a slight flaw in her master plan. "Er…how do you catch a gopher anyways?" Pippin, who was quite adept at catching things thanks to years of capturing appropriate creepy crawlies for unleashing horror on his sisters, was already one step ahead.

"Right, we need to create an ambush," he said, starting to feel a spark of excitement. A Took never passed up an opportunity for adventure. "I'll make sure it can't run, and you can catch it!"

"Why do I have to be the one that catches it?" Amaryllis said indignantly.

"Because this whole thing was your idea," Pippin replied easily. "I have better things to do than catch some silly animal, but those cookies do sound good…"

"I guess you have a point," sighed Amaryllis resignedly. "Alright, we need to sneak up on it so it doesn't suspect anything." It was pretty clear that the gopher already suspected something, and it stared back at them beadily.

"Don't be silly, it's obviously going to run away if it sees us sneaking around looking suspicious," Pippin said. "We need to act casual and calm." Amaryllis snorted.

"It's not a hobbit, Pippin! It's a gopher, I don't think it can tell whether we're sneaking or taking a perfectly normal walk…"

"Alright, alright, let's just get this over it so I can get my cookies," Pippin sighed, and Amaryllis didn't bother to point out that she obviously would be unable to make the cookies immediately after the gopher was captured.

Reflecting on the incident later, Amaryllis wondered why she went through all that trouble to catch a silly rodent. She supposed it was one those things where once you set your heart on completing a task, you _would _complete it, even though it served no practical purpose. The capture of the gopher definitely didn't serve a practical purpose, but the two young hobbits attempted anyway, fueled by the desire to accomplish something exciting (in Amaryllis' case) or lemon almond cookies (Pippin's case).

Sneaking with the quietness only determined young hobbits could possess, they gingerly approached the gopher. The creature sniffed once, twice, then promptly bolted. All plans were immediately abandoned as both hobbits pounced, flying for a brief second before landing in a dirty heap.

"Oof," Pippin commented, finding himself eye to eye with the creature. Thinking of warm cookies, he lunged forward, briefly getting a handful of fur before the furry little fellow moved again. The gopher did not like being grabbed at by such a monstrous animal as Pippin, and in retaliation promptly latched its teeth on to Pippin's nose.

"Yeeeeeeeeoooooooooowch!" Pippin shrieked, followed by several highly inappropriate words that would almost certainly inspire heart failure in older hobbits. Flailing about in pain, he wacked Amaryllis in the chest, causing her to gasp in pain and do a classic face-plant.

"Watch it!" she snapped, scrambling up and kicking Pippin in the shins in retaliation. Unfortunately her aim was none too good, an Pippin was soon kneeling over in pain, gopher still viscously attached to his nose and hands curled between his legs in agony.

"Don't worry Pippin, I'll get it off!" Amaryllis announced heroically, and leaping forward with a mighty battle cry attached her hands around the gopher's middle and pulled. Unfortunately she didn't realize that the creature was stronger than it looked, and Pippin let out another blood-curdling screech followed by even fouler language as the skin on his nose tore.

"When all this is over!" he gasped between various pained noises, "I am cooking this thing alive and eating it—Yow!" Amaryllis gave another pull.

"I'm with you," she panted. "Roasted gopher sounds perfect right now. Damn it, this thing will _not _let go!" As a last resort, she gave the gopher a hard wack on its furry bottom. The gopher did indeed detach itself from Pippins nose, leaving him to collapse on the ground and attempt to stifle the blood flow. Unfortunately, it did not take kindly to being hit by a giant hobbit girl and promptly sunk its sharp little teeth into Amaryllis' elbow.

"Arrgh! Mother—" Pippin looked up in interest.

"I never heard that one," he commented, significantly calmer now that the gopher was no longer attached to his face. Holding his sleeve to his damaged nose, he watched as Amaryllis flailed around desperately, gopher still clinging to her skin and waving up in down with every movement of her arm. "Wow, look at that little bugger go," he commented mildly. Figuring that now would be a good time to finish his apple, he crawled over to the tree and took a large bite.

"Pippin!" gasped Amaryllis in indignation. "I'm being attacked by a violent, murderous rodent and you're just going to _eat_? Get over here and help me." Pippin let out a dramatic groan.

"But I'm hungry! Doing battle with gophers is exhausting you know," he said. Amaryllis gave him a malevolent glare, now shaking her elbow violently. Pippin gave her a strange look. "Are you okay?"

For a second, Amaryllis gaped. Then her wrath was released upon him. "No, I am not okay!" she shrieked. "A gopher is tearing the skin off my arm and I need help! I helped you when it was attacking you, Pippin, so I think it's a little rich that you're just going to sit there and eat your apple while I am in serious pain."

Pippin yawned and got to his feet lazily. "Alright then, I suppose I'll try to get it off for the sake of the cookies." He gazed from the gopher firmly latched on to her elbow to her pained expression. "What exactly do you want me to do?" he asked. Amaryllis was now hopping on one foot as well as flailing, still trying to shake the creature off.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe pull it off of me?" she asked. Pippin, not detecting the sarcasm, stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Nah, you tried that, remember?" he said seriously. "It'll just rip the skin off and be more painful." Seeing that Amaryllis was quickly becoming exasperated, he hastily thought up a plan. "Hmm…Maybe if I? No…that won't work…" he mused out loud.

"Hurry already," Amaryllis wailed. "I can't take much more of this!" Finally, Pippin was ready to act.

"All right, Miss Amaryllis, hold still now, I know what to do," he said, feeling a rush of satisfaction at his ability to think on the spot. Gingerly, he approached her, silently sizing up the terrible foe now chewing on her elbow. With elf-like speed and agility, he firmly latched his hands to the gopher's head before it had a chance to react, forced the jaws apart, and dropped the violent rodent on the ground, rubbing his hands in disgust. The gopher blinked at him once, twice, before circling his legs and scampering off. Pippin teetered on one foot, arms flailing, and desperately clung to Amaryllis for balance. Unfortunately, her center of gravity wasn't quite solid thanks to her attempts to shake the horrid creature off, and Pippin's weight sent her tumbling backwards, dragging him down with her. They landed in a tangled heap, both bleeding profusely, covered in dirt, and gasping in pain.

"You…" Pippin panted, "Owe we me cookies for going through all of that." Despite the fact that she could barely move thanks to being crushed beneath him, Amaryllis stood firm.

"Nuh uh, that wasn't our deal," she said, feeling rather disagreeable. "Besides, at this point wouldn't you rather catch the gopher and eat that instead?" A look of horror passed over Pippin's features.

"No! Never again, please!" he gasped, as an afterthought adding, "But I'm still determined to get those cookies, whether you like it or not. Perhaps I could tell your mother or sister that you pushed me out of a tree and I was severely injured?" Amaryllis gave him a petulant look.

"That won't work. They know I don't climb trees. I'm afraid of heights," she said smugly, initiating a scowl from Pippin.

"Thought I had you there. C'mon Amaryllis, can't you just make me cookies for being such a wonderful friend?" he tried again, giving her puppy-dog eyes. Amaryllis attempted to cross her arms, found she was unable to do so as Pippin was still crushing her, and settled for a scowl of her own.

"When did I ever say I thought you were a friend?" she quipped. Pippin shut his mouth, looking a bit hurt. Amaryllis squirmed. "Um…Pippin? Would you mind getting up, please? No offense or anything, but I'm starting to have trouble breathing…"

"Not until you promise to make me cookies," Pippin said, clearly savoring his revenge. Amaryllis gaped before flushing furiously.

"Why you little—"

"Pippin, is that you? What do you think you're doing?" Amaryllis' gaze snapped up, mouth still open. Turning three shades of red and looking up, she gaped shamelessly. At first glance, she mistook the hobbit hovering above them for an elf. Not that she had actually ever seen an elf, but this hobbit's pale skin, dark curls, and large blue eyes certainly seemed ethereal enough. The question popped out of her mouth before she could stop it.

"Are you half-elf?" Pippin face-palmed, and the hobbit looked amused. One good thing did come from her stupidity though, as Pippin found it necessary to provide proper introductions and finally climb off of her.

"Miss Amaryllis, this is my cousin, Frodo Baggins. Frodo, this is an _acquaintance_," he was still clearly miffed about the friend comment, "Amaryllis Bracegirdle." Amaryllis stared. Having heard plenty about old mad Baggins, coming face-to-face with his heir was rather exciting. Realizing she was still in an undignified heap on the ground, she shakily got to her feet.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Amaryllis," Frodo said, looking at her with mild disinterest. Amaryllis, painfully aware that she was covered in dirt, her elbow bleeding and her hair a frizzy mess, offered an attempt at a curtsy.

"Uh, same here," she said, not entirely sure how she should address him. "Frodo" seemed too informal and "Mr. Baggins" was just silly. "Mr. Frodo," she said awkwardly, mentally wincing. Thankfully, Frodo's attention had returned to Pippin

"Pippin, what happened to your nose?" he asked in concern, "It's practically gushing blood." He stopped and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Wait, were you stealing something again?" Pippin's eyes widened.

"No! Well, it's rather silly, but Amaryllis here decided she wanted to catch a gopher and I tried to help and, well, it sort of bit me on the nose," he babbled. Frodo raised an eyebrow and Amaryllis jumped in.

"Yeah!" she exclaimed, nodding enthusiastically. "I tried to pull it off but then it attacked _me_! We tried to capture it but the nasty little bugger got away." The story sounded rather ridiculous out loud. Frodo closed his eyes and attempted to hold in a laugh.

"And why, may I ask, were you trying to capture a gopher in the first place?" Amaryllis bit her lip in contemplation.

"Er—Well, I actually can't quite remember," she replied, feeling rather silly. "Because it was cute?" Frodo granted her an amused smile before turning to Pippin.

"And why were _you _hunting rodents, Pip?" he asked. Pippin didn't miss a beat.

"Amaryllis promised to make me lemon almond cookies if I helped her catch it! Although it seems she has no intention of actually keeping her promise." He gave her a death glare.

"Hey!" Amaryllis exclaimed indignantly. "I _meant _I would make you cookies if we actually managed to catch it, _not _if you helped. For all I knew, help could've meant sitting and eating an apple while looking on in amusement," she said, giving him a nasty look for her own.

"Well, I deserve the cookies anyway," Pippin said breezily. "I could have been seriously injured by that horrid thing. No, wait, I forgot! I _was _seriously injured! Won't you make me some cookies to help me heal?" Frodo observed the interaction quietly, brow furrowed.

"Wait, how do you know each other?" he asked, turning to Amaryllis. "No offense meant, but I've never heard Pippin mention you before."

"We're acquaintances, as Pippin so nicely put it," replied Amaryllis. "He and Merry helped me when I was in Hobbiton a couple of weeks back."

"Yeah, we helped Amaryllis escape from her evil sister!" Pippin jumped in helpfully. "I forgot to ask, what are _you _doing here, Frodo?"

"I was coming to read," Frodo began, and Amaryllis noticed a makeshift leather volume tucked under his arm, "Since Bilbo's locked away in his study again. I heard screams and recognized Pippin's voice."

Amaryllis had a quite a few questions she would have loved to ask Bilbo Baggin's young ward, but unfortunately didn't get a chance to needle Frodo with any of them, because right at that moment her mother came traipsing towards them, looking thoroughly exhausted.

"Amaryllis, I just finished the transaction so if you're ready to go…" Taking in her daughter's disheveled appearance and new company, she groaned. "What happened this time?" Fearing her mother would find the true account of what had happened ridiculous and deny her supper, Amaryllis made something up on the spot.

"Well, you see, the funniest thing happened. I ran into Pippin here when we were attacked by a monstrous warg!" Since the fell winter, wargs had become a popular horror story to initiate good behavior from young hobbits. "Foaming at the mouth and ten feet tall!" Pippin face-palmed again, and Frodo smirked.

"A ten foot tall warg in this pleasant spring weather?" her mother asked, playing along. "My goodness, you must have been brave to fight such a creature!"

"Uh huh!" Amaryllis nodded eagerly, glad her mother seemed to be in a complacent mood. "It even bit me, look!" She proudly displayed her heavily bleeding elbow. Her mother's amusement immediately became worry.

"How in the world did you get a cut that bad, Amaryllis?" she asked, immediately hovering over her daughter and examining the wound carefully. "Oh my, it's deeper than it looks." Pippin leapt in helpfully.

"Amaryllis wanted to catch a gopher," he explained, cowering under Amaryllis' resulting glare. "And it bit us both. See? Look at my nose!" Amaryllis' mother let out a long sigh.

"Amaryllis Bracegirdle," she began sternly, "How many times to I have to tell you to keep your schemes to yourself and not create trouble? Rodent's carry all sorts of nasty diseases," Pippin muttered an "I told you so", "That can take a long time to recover from if you're unlucky enough to catch one. We can only hope that it won't become infected before we can get it clean. The walk home may be a little too long…" she mused, ignoring her daughter's sigh as she continued to prod the open wound.

The ever-polite Frodo made an offer. "Mrs. Bracegirdle, if it would be convenient for you I'm sure my uncle Bilbo wouldn't mind if you took Amaryllis to get her wound cleaned up at Bag End. That would take care of the risk of infection." As an afterthought he added, "You better come too Pip and we'll clean you up a bit. I'm sure Pal would be none too happy if you came home looking like that." Paladin II, Thain of the Shire and head of the Took family, was not a hobbit to be trifled with.

"Bilbo? Bilbo Baggins?" Amaryllis' mother asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Who are you then?"

"Frodo Baggins, at your service, Mrs. Bracegirdle," Frodo said solemnly, with a small duck of the head that constituted as a bow. Amaryllis' mother was mildly impressed.

"It's a pleasure, Frodo," she said with a pleased smile. "My, what a polite lad you are! Why can't you behave more like that, Amaryllis?" she asked, giving her youngest daughter a sharp glance. Pippin, meanwhile, was not taking well to being ignored.

"I'm polite too!" he chirped, though the protest was under minded by the fact that he was covered in dirt and blood with several leaves adorning his unruly hair.

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Bracegirdle said patiently. "You must be Peregrin Took? Amaryllis told us a bit about you and a Merry Brandybuck." Pippin nodded happily.

"Merry's my cousin," he explained, "And we ran into Amaryllis a couple weeks ago when—" Amaryllis nudged him warningly "She accidentally fell down a hill and got lost."

"Believe me, I heard all about it," her mother said darkly, before straightening and clapping her daughter on the shoulder and turning to Frodo. "Well, if you're sure you don't mind I may have to take you up on your offer. I have enough on my plate without having to treat an infected wound. Are you positive it isn't any trouble?" Frodo gave her a reassuring smile.

"None at all. Bilbo never minds extra company," Frodo responded cheerily enough, though his eyes held a twinge of warning, as if daring someone to make a smart comment about the eccentricities of Bilbo Baggins. No such remark came, and they headed on their way. Frodo and Amaryllis' mother were silent, but Pippin still wasn't satisfied. He ran up to her mother and tugged on her sleeve.

"Excuse me Mrs. Bracegirdle, but Amaryllis promised to bake me some lemon almond cookies if I helped her catch the gopher. She says she won't though," he said, giving her trademark puppy-dog eyes that had been known to make even the fierce Esmeralda Brandybuck soften. Sure enough, Amaryllis was immediately on the receiving end of a reproachful glare.

"Amaryllis! What have I told you about making promises you can't keep? You should be ashamed of yourself, leading your new friend on like that." Amaryllis started to open her mouth in protest but realized there was no use. Puppy-dog eyes could win many a battle. Pippin looked confused.

"Huh? What do mean, promises you can't keep?" he asked. The older hobbit shook her head wearily.

"My youngest daughter cannot cook," she said simply. Amaryllis flushed magenta. "She can barely follow the simplest recipe, let alone successfully bake lemon almond cookies. Most of the time she becomes distracted, puts something completely random into whatever she's making, and we pay for it later when we taste the fruits of her labors." Pippin gazed at her in horror.

"So I'll never get any cookies?" he asked, intensely disappointed. Azalea Bracegirdle let out a sigh cultivated from long years of child rearing.

"I'll make you some as an apology, lad," she said before turning to Amaryllis. "And may this serve as a lesson to you, young lady, to think before you speak! You will help me make the cookies for poor Pippin, and Eru forbid if you ruin them…" she trailed off warningly and Amaryllis gulped.

"Yes Mother." She looked curiously at Frodo, who was still silent. "What are you reading?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't mind the question. She never really met a hobbit that loved books before. Well, her mother and grandmother enjoyed rifling through cookbooks on occasion, but she seriously doubted that Frodo was holding a cookbook.

"One of Bilbo's translations-in-progress," he answered. At her mildly confused expression, he elaborated. "Bilbo has always enjoyed songs and tales of Elves, and now he satisfies his interests by translating his favorites." Once again, he gave her a sharp stare that dared her to make fun of his Uncle's quirkier interests. Instead, Amaryllis just said "ah", hoping she sounded as if she knew _all _about Elves. Taking this as encouragement, Frodo continued with more enthusiasm. "This one is _The Tale of Beren and Lúthien_. It's a beautiful love story." Amaryllis wrinkled her nose, far preferring adventure and excitement to sappy romance.

"Oh," she said. "What's it about?" she added, feigning interest for the sake of politeness.

"Beren, a mortal man, who loved Lúthien, daughter of Thingol and fairest of elves," he said, and Amaryllis stared at him in bright-eyed interest. Frodo's voice changed when he spoke of the Elves, shifting into softer, more melodic tones that she couldn't help but feel captivated by.

"What happened?" she breathed, but Frodo merely smiled mischievously.

"My words cannot do such a tale justice," he said simply. "Besides, I would not wish to spoil the ending for you should you ever read it." Mrs. Bracegirdle let out a small disapproving huff.

"You shouldn't go filling your head with tales and songs of elves and such, Amaryllis. Load of codswallop if you ask me." She turned hastily to Frodo. "No offense meant, Master Baggins, it's all well and good for hobbits with time and money on their hands to take an interest in such things but us Bracegirdles have to work hard to earn our keep. Learn to mend a seam before you go reading about Elves." Amaryllis sighed, much preferring even sappy love stories to sewing, though it certainly wasn't as bad as cooking.

"Tales and songs make me smarter," she protested weakly, "And aren't you always saying you wish I was quick-witted?" Her mother shook her head.

"You're plenty quick-witted when you come up with those elaborate schemes of yours," she pointed out. "You just don't know how to apply your intelligence to things that matter: Learning to cook, clean, and manage a household like all proper hobbit women should." Amaryllis let out a miniscule moan and her mother granted her a disapproving stare. "Honestly, Amaryllis, you've been positively _feisty_ these last couple of weeks. What in the world has come over you?"

"We're here," Frodo said quietly. Amaryllis' head snapped up in surprise. Frodo didn't bother to knock on Bag End's merry green door, merely opened it and stepped aside, a clear invitation for them to enter. She did so gingerly, as if the floor would give out once she took a step if it deemed her unworthy of being in such close proximity to Bilbo Baggins and all of his stories and eccentricities. No such event occurred of course, and feeling bolder from her success at making it through the door, Amaryllis dared to glance around. Bag End was easily the finest smial she had ever stepped foot in. Beautifully decorated (if a little disheveled due to Bilbo's obvious disinterest in housekeeping) and positively lavish from the furniture to the polished floorboards.

"Woah," she breathed, obviously star-struck. Pippin had marched right in like it was _his _home before plopping himself on a cushy loveseat.

"Well Frodo, aren't you going to go and get Bilbo? My nose is hurting rather badly," he said. Amaryllis became aware that her own damaged elbow had stopped bleeding, though instead of hardening into a nice scab it had become, in a word, _yellow_. Frodo looked on the brink of saying something rude, remembered Amaryllis and Mrs. Bracegirdle's presence, and gave a slightly forced smile.

"Of course. I'll go and explain the situation," he said before disappearing down the hall. Amaryllis stood awkwardly, not really sure if sitting would be permitted, dirty as she was. Pippin had kicked up his feet and was looking thoroughly at ease.

"I wish Bilbo might let me stay for supper," he said casually, "I'm starving. Are you going to sit?" Amaryllis opened her mouth to say it wasn't a good idea, but _Pippin _was sitting, and really, would a hobbit as interesting as Bilbo Baggins mind a little extra dirt? To be safe, she sat on a wooden bureau instead of a couch, and nearly leapt up again when Frodo returned with the famous Bilbo Baggins. Stories and gossip aside, he looked like a fairly normal hobbit. A fairly normal middle-aged hobbit that is, even though Amaryllis knew perfectly well that he was well into his hundreds. He had a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face as he immediately bustled over to Pippin.

"Well, Pippin-lad, what sort of trouble did you get yourself into this time?" Pippin pointed proudly at his damaged nose. "My, that's bleeding quite a lot isn't it? We'll get you cleaned up in no time." Amaryllis' mother cleared her throat.

"Excuse me Master Baggins, but your nephew told my daughter and I that we may be able to treat her injury here to avoid an infection." Bilbo turned and gave her a little nod of recognition.

"Ah, yes, Mrs. Bracegirdle, isn't it? Pleasure to meet you," he said politely. Amaryllis' mother gave a slightly curt nod.

"It's Azalea," she said. "And that's my daughter, Amaryllis. Do you have anything I can use to clean out her cut? If it's a bother of course, we can probably make it home in time to get it taken care of. It's not that deep, but you can never be too careful with animal bites…" She trailed off uncertainly, as if expecting Bilbo to send her and Amaryllis straight out the door. The old hobbit chuckled kindly.

"Nonsense, I'll go and fetch some supplies. Feel free to make yourselves comfortable." He bustled down the hall.

Soon, Amaryllis was wincing in pain as her mother first rinsed the wound with warm water, then pressed some sort of special leaf Bilbo had acquired over the open skin to draw out the dirt and saliva. The effect was painful, and she let out a squack, jerking violently.

"Amaryllis! How many times do I have to tell you to _sit still_?" Mrs. Bracegirdle asked through gritted teeth. Amaryllis bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood, desperately attempting not to move. Desperate for a distraction, she turned to Frodo.

"So, do you know any other Elvish tales?" she asked, knowing that her mother wouldn't dare reprimand her in the presence of the legendary Bilbo Baggins. Frodo gave her a quick piercing look, as if he knew perfectly well what she was thinking. Amaryllis shifted uncomfortably. Bilbo looked up in earnest enthusiasm, a smile on his face.

"You enjoy stories of Elves?" he asked. "That's wonderful! Most young hobbits these days don't appreciate the more beautiful beings of Middle Earth…"

"Well, I haven't really read or heard all that many," Amaryllis admitted, "But Frodo was telling me about Beren and Lúthien and I would love to hear more!" She smiled innocently, taking secret pleasure in her mother's tightly pursed lips.

"Of course you do!" exclaimed Bilbo. "_The Tale of Beren and Lúthien _is one of my favorites. I translated it, you know, and I'm working on others. Say, I know! Would you like to borrow one of my collections of songs and stories? Goodness knows I have plenty, and the proper education of young hobbits is a noble quest indeed."

This put Amaryllis and her mother in an awkward situation. Amaryllis was painfully aware of the fact that she couldn't read. Well, she could read a little, but certainly not enough to decipher the rich language that was bound to be present in such lore. Still, she hardly wanted to admit this fact to Bilbo and Frodo Baggins, who were both obviously well educated. Her mother was in an even more uncomfortable position. She could hardly tell the legendary Bilbo Baggins that she thought such things silly and definitely not suited for her daughter, but she had enough sense not to embarrass herself and her daughter by using Amaryllis' illiteracy as an excuse.

"Well, I suppose…" She looked down at Amaryllis, who was gazing up at her with pleading eyes. "That would by lovely, Master Baggins, as long as you're sure it's not a bother?" Bilbo waved a hand dismissively.

"It will be a favor if anything," he said kindly. "I have far too many books sitting around collecting dust. And please call me Bilbo. Now, if you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll go and fetch the book…" he shuffled off, leaving Pippin to poke the new bandage on his nose.

"I could certainly go for a bath," he announced. "I feel positively _slimy_. Frodo, do you think I might stay and wash up before heading home?" His question made Amaryllis realize that she too felt absolutely disgusting. The combination of dirt, sweat, and a little blood made her feel sluggish and sticky, and she was suddenly extremely eager for a good hot bath. She opened her mouth to ask the same question as Pippin, but was hastily silenced by a reproachful glance from her mother.

"Don't even think about it, Amaryllis. We've encroached on Master Baggins' hospitality enough for one day," she said reprovingly. Amaryllis gave a long sigh, not looking forward to the long walk home in the heat. Just then, Bilbo bustled back in, book in hand. It was bound in leather with a fancy script that she definitely wouldn't be able to read carved on the front cover. The old hobbit handed it to her with a kindly smile, and she forced a small grin in return.

"Thank you," she said, remembering her manners. "That is very kind of you." Bilbo's eyes twinkled.

"It's my pleasure, dear," he said. "I hope you enjoy it." Amaryllis stared at the words on the cover, biting her lip in concentration, but the excessive use of swirls and spirals adorning the letters would have made nearly impossible to read even if she was properly educated. Instead she settled for running a reverent hand over the buttery leather. Her mother gave a small disapproving sniff.

"Many thanks, Master Baggins," she said tightly. "Do you need to have it returned at a specific time?"

"Whenever she is done enjoying it," answered Bilbo amiably.

"Well, then, I suppose we'll be on our way. Once again, thank you both." She turned to Pippin. "Amaryllis will make your cookies as soon as possible. How would like them delivered?"

"Oh, if you could stop by Tuckborough next time you're nearby and drop them off, that would be fine," Pippin said happily. Amaryllis rose reluctantly, definitely not looking forward to returning to her boring old smial with her boring old family.

"Bye," she said morosely, clutching the book under her arm. "Nice meeting you," she added in Frodo's general direction. He granted her a quick smile. Sighing resignedly, Amaryllis cast one look of longing around the luxury of Bag End before following her mother dolefully as they trudged home under the late noon sun.

**Author's Note: Frodo has been introduced! His involvement will slowly increase, because I really want to make sure Merry, Pippin, and Sam are all included. I'm going to be introducing the Took sisters as well as Estella Bolger soon, and maybe even have the beginning of some romance between her and Merry. Sam will be introduced in the next chapter, so stay tuned and R&R!**

**omnonlegolas: Words can't even express how grateful I am for your review. The first review for a new story is always exciting (and kind of nerve-wracking) for me, so thanks for easing some of that tension. I really hope you continue to enjoy and thanks for your continued support on No Malls in Middle Earth.**

**guest: Thanks for the review. I've never gotten two reviews on the first chapter of a story before! **


	3. Birthday Visits

**Chapter 3: Birthday Visits**

**Author's Note: Thank you so, so much for the reviews, guys! I wasn't expecting this story to get as many readers as it has so far. I hope you continue to read and enjoy. Things will be speeding up a little, but no serious romance until later. I was originally intending to use movie verse, but I think I might end up using a combination of book and movie as I see fit. Either way, this story obviously won't strictly comply with canon, though it's by no means going into seriously AU territory. Anyways, please read and review! Your support means everything to me.**

Birthdays in the Bracegirdle's smial were small affairs, but heart-warming nonetheless. When Amaryllis' twenty-ninth birthday arrived on April 2nd, she prepared small gifts for her family members as was expected (Something nicely embroidered for her parents and April and two crushed pansies for Acacia), and ate a ridiculous amount of the butter-cream cake her mother baked while Acacia sniffed something snotty about "watching her waist". Her eldest sister had taken to carefully regulating her meals, a most unbecoming activity for a hobbit, and was attempting to enforce her new eating habits on the rest of the family.

"You may have never noticed this," said Amaryllis in response to Acacia's most recent jab, "But hobbits are _supposed _to be plump. Aren't you always complaining about how queer those slim little Bucklanders are anyways?" She shoveled another piece of cake into her mouth. Acacia wrinkled her nose.

"Yes, only because it's unnatural," she said primly. "Spending all that time frolicking around in boats of all things! If they didn't live so close to all those horrid trees I'm sure they would be a good deal more normal." She chewed her lip thoughtfully for a moment, self consciously smoothing the folds of her dress over her slightly pudgy stomach. "But one does not want to become excessively fat, Amaryllis. Besides, I'm sure Folco wouldn't want anything to do with me if I jiggled _too _much."

"Folco isn't a wisp himself," Amaryllis pointed out, "Nor is most of Hobbiton's population. Besides, a little extra fat will enhance your bosom, and we all know that's what Folco's really interested in." Acacia looked scandalized.

"Has it ever occurred to you that Folco fancies me because I'm kind-hearted and interesting?" she asked coldly.

"No," answered Amaryllis with blunt honesty. Acacia barely held in a frustrated scream.

"All I'm saying is it's not a bad thing to want to look nice," she said through clenched teeth. "You may be all angles and corners now, but those slices of cake are going to catch up with you one day, and you'll be sorry when none of the lads spare you a second glance."

"So?" Amaryllis was still entirely unconvinced. "I never want to get married. Lads are too much trouble." Acacia huffed in exasperation.

"If I were you, I would take advantage of the position you're in," she said with an air of supreme wisdom. "That Peregrin Took is the future Thain, Amaryllis! Think of the opportunities if you married someone with that much status! Granted, the Tooks are a little odd, but still…" Amaryllis wrinkled her nose.

"I think you've had a couple too many sniffs of Old Toby," she said disgustedly. "I believe the only times I've interacted with Pippin is when I fell down a hill and he and Merry helped me and when we attempted to catch a gopher and both ended up seriously injured." She rubbed the scar on her elbow reflectively. "That's not exactly romantic, Acacia. Besides, he's goofy. Not really the dreamy sort."

"I think he's cute, in a funny way," replied Acacia, who noticed these things in greater depth than Amaryllis. "You met Frodo Baggins too, right? Now, _that's _a dreamy lad. I mean, those eyes! Too bad he's probably just as mad as that uncle of his…" Amaryllis raised her eyebrows.

"When have you seen Frodo Baggins?" she asked, disregarding the comment about how "dreamy" he was. Acacia blushed, an action quite uncharacteristic for her.

"Well, I've never actually seen him in person, but one does hear things," she said quickly. Amaryllis shook her head and turned her attention back to her cake, not really caring for gossip of boys and such. Thankfully, before Acacia could launch into a detailed account of the latest small talk down in Hobbiton, their mother bustled into the kitchen.

"I just got word from your Grandmother," she said tiredly. "She's coming to visit tonight for your birthday." Amaryllis immediately leapt up in panic.

"Mother, can I go down to Hobbiton today?" she asked quickly, initiating an amused glance from Mrs. Bracegirdle.

"Amaryllis, Grandmother rarely visits. It would be a shame to miss an opportunity to see her. Can't you handle one night?" her mother asked tiredly. Amaryllis bit her lip. It wasn't that she didn't love her Grandmother, but she was very old, very strict, and loved to impose her infinite wisdom of the world on Amaryllis. Being the baby of the family, she usually got the brunt of the scolding and "when I was your age" lectures. Normally she would keep her chin up and accept her predicament, but it was her birthday and she wanted to enjoy herself.

"Well, I really, _really _wanted to go down to Hobbiton today to…" she searched for an excuse "Return Bilbo Baggins' book!" she exclaimed triumphantly. The leather-bound volume was currently sitting in her room, where she had spent many a night attempting (and failing) to decipher the pages.

"Can't it wait another day, Amaryllis? It seems silly to go all the way down to Hobbiton just to return a book," her mother, ever practical, pointed out. Amaryllis sighed exasperatedly before remembering something.

"We never made Pippin's cookies!" she said. "We can whip up a batch and I'll give them to Pippin _and _return Bilbo Baggins' book!"

"I'm awfully tired, Amaryllis," her mother protested weakly. Amaryllis immediately gave an excellent impersonation of Pippin's spectacular puppy-dog eyes.

"Please? For my birthday?" she begged. Her mother gave a long sigh and smiled.

"For your birthday," she agreed. "Besides, who am I to argue when you are willing to make an effort to try and do something productive? Acacia dear, are you helping?"

"Why not?" responded Acacia with a magnanimous smile. "I suppose I won't actually have to eat any."

"A few cookies wouldn't hurt you," her mother said worriedly. "If you go on eating much more of this rabbit food you'll turn into a little bunny yourself."

"I want to look nice for Folco," Acacia protested.

"Lads like girls they can hug with being afraid they'll snap in two like a porcelain doll," Mrs. Bracegirdle said wisely, prompting an "I told you so" look from Amaryllis. "Hobbits are meant to have meat on their bones."

"I suppose one or two won't hurt," Acacia said hesitantly, prompting a brilliant grin from her younger sister.

"Of course not," she reassured, "And besides, someone needs to make sure I don't mix something poisonous in the batter." Acacia giggled, and Amaryllis practically glowed. She had missed this looser, friendlier version of her big sister. Her mother seemed to think so too, for there was a relieved look in her eyes.

"Well, let's be getting on with it then. We don't have all day," she said. Amaryllis didn't actually domuch to help make the cookies, for fear of ruining them like she did most baked goods. Thankfully her mother let it be for the day, only scolding her when she flung some flour at Acacia, who actually retaliated. Both coated in powdery white, the girls were a little sad when their mother intervened in what could have been an entertaining battle. Soon, the cookies were in the oven, letting out a heavenly scent of citrus and vanilla. Work done, Mrs. Bracegirdle turned to her daughters with an amused smile.

"Look at you two! If I didn't know better I'd say you were ghosts! Go and wash up now, we can't have you visiting Bilbo Baggins pale as a spirit."

Amaryllis washed up and dressed in something a little nicer. As she slipped into her dress (A simple, cheerful green), she leaned forward, examining the reflection staring back at her from her dresser mirror critically. She wasn't stunningly gorgeous, being a little too thin of limb by typical hobbit standards of beauty, and her face was too angular to have that soft prettiness that hobbits coveted. Still, her curls were a nice reddish shade, and she had a cute sprinkling of freckles on her nose. Giving the mirror one last glance, she tucked Bilbo's book under her arm before happily trotting back to the kitchen. Her mother had nicely wrapped up two bundles of the still-warm cookies, tied with cheerful red string.

"I thought maybe you could give some to the Bagginses along with the book," she explained. "Goodness knows old Bilbo could use a couple more homey comforts to distract from those ridiculous adventures of his."

"Sure. Besides, it would be rude not to give a present, being my birthday and all," Amaryllis said cheerfully. "May I please go now?"

"Yes, and maybe if you hurry your Grandmother will still be here when you get back," her mother said with a laugh at Amaryllis' panicked face. "Be quick, don't stray off and get lost, and don't talk to strangers unless necessity calls for it." With a small pat on the bum, she swatted her youngest daughter out the door. "Now off with you! Have fun!"

Without any disapproving siblings, Amaryllis was free to run and skip as much as she liked on the way down to Hobbiton. Relishing in her solitude and freedom, she practically flew down the path, waving in greeting to every hobbit that passed her way. By the time she reached Hobbiton, she was flushed with happiness and exertion, cookies in hand and book tucked under her arm. She slipped into a quiet little daydream that she was a beautiful elf princess with a mission to return a sacred relic to an old king, and by the time she approached Bag End, she was completely immersed in her thoughts. The familiar green door seemed to wink cheerfully in the bright sun, and with more confidence then on her previous visit, she marched up the path and gave the wood three hard knocks. No response was heard. Visibly dimming, she tried again.

"Beggin' your pardon Miss, but Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo ain't home." Amaryllis leapt nearly ten feet in the air with a small scream. Whirling around, her eyes fell on a sun-browned hobbit kneeling in the garden.

"You frightened me," she said accusingly. The hobbit looked at her in guilty concern.

"My apologies Miss, I didn't mean to scare you none," he said worriedly. Amaryllis smiled reassuringly.

"No, it's my fault I wasn't paying attention. I was just a little startled. Who are you?" she asked. The hobbit stood, brushing some earth off his slightly rounded belly.

"Samwise Gamgee at yer service, Miss, though most just call me Sam. I've done the gardenin' for Mr. Bilbo since me Gaffer got a little stiff in the joints." Amaryllis accepted this with a small nod.

"Amaryllis Bracegirdle," she said, contemplating an attempt at a curtsy and offering an awkward jerk of the head instead. "Pleasure to meet you." She gazed over him critically, from the humble eyes and sun-kissed skin to the sandy curls atop his head. He seemed friendly enough, and there was something about his pleasant plumpness and dirt-smudged cheeks that made her feel at ease.

"If you don't mind my askin', Miss, what were you needing?" Sam asked cautiously.

"Well, I borrowed a book from Bilbo and wanted to return it." As an afterthought she added, "and it's my birthday, so I thought I might bring by some cookies as well. I don't have any extras, but I could fish out a couple if you'd like…" she trailed off, hoping he wouldn't be a offended by her lack of a gift. Still, surely she couldn't be expected to go about giving birthday presents to complete strangers. Thankfully, Sam didn't seem to mind.

"That's alright Miss, I wouldn't want to trouble you none. Many happy returns," he added, before glancing at the book in her arms with ill-disguised curiosity. "What did Mr. Bilbo give you? Not that it's any of my business. The Gaffer's always tellin' me to keep me nose out of other folks' private affairs," said Sam with a blush.

"It's okay, I don't mind," Amaryllis reassured him, before remembering that she didn't actually know the title of the book. Sam didn't seem like the type to judge though, and if she was going to go and tell someone she never learned to read, he seemed like a good choice. "Well, actually, I don't really know what book it is." She blushed brilliantly herself before further explaining, "I, er, don't actually know how to read. I mean, I can read simple things of course, like recipes and prices and such, but I was afraid to go and tell Bilbo that I never learned my letters when he was being so kind, lending me his book and all." Sam was silent for a moment, and Amaryllis was struck with a sudden fear that he would laugh in her face. Instead, he stroked his dirt-smudged chin thoughtfully.

"I know the feelin'," he finally said. "I remember back when I firs' started workin' for Mr. Bilbo, I spent a lot of time talkin' to Mr. Frodo. He would talk about all these wonderful tales of _elves_," the word was a whisper of awe, "and I would sit there like a ninnyhammer, too afraid to tell him that I didn't have a clue what he was goin' on about. Finally I spoke up, and Mr. Bilbo does the kindest thing and offers to learn me my letters!" Amaryllis let out a relieved breath.

"Oh, thank goodness," she sighed. "I was so afraid to tell him, he being so brilliant and all. Frodo too! And I was so frightened that they would both think I was a silly little girl if they knew I was uneducated. Well, I suppose I am a silly little girl," she said with a slight frown.

"I was nervous the first time I met Mr. Bilbo," reflected Sam. "I had heard the stories of course, and one day my old Gaffer says to me 'You'll have to do the gardenin' for me today, Sam lad, my knee being stiff as it is' and I was quakin' in fear. None of those rumors are true of course. I never met a kinder hobbit in my life than Mr. Bilbo, other than perhaps Mr. Frodo."

"I wish I could learn my letters like you did," Amaryllis confessed, eyes downcast, "But I most likely never will. You're lucky you had someone to teach you. Neither of my parents can read, and even if they could they would never have time to teach me."

"You could always ask Mr. Bilbo," suggested Sam. "He loves teaching things almost as much as he loves goin' off on adventures."

"I could never ask something like that of a near stranger," Amaryllis replied wistfully, clutching the book to her chest. Sam's response was immediately cut off, for at that moment Frodo Baggins came strolling up the path, humming a pretty tune. He stopped when he saw Amaryllis, clearly struggling to place her face.

"Good Morning!" he said politely. "Amaryllis, wasn't it? Amaryllis Bracegirdle?"

"That's me," replied Amaryllis, taken aback by the sudden intrusion of the fair-faced hobbit. He clearly had Fallohide heritage rather than the elf blood she originally suspected to run through his veins. His eyes looked bluer in the afternoon sun, sparkling prettily beneath those dark lashes. Frodo waited a moment for her to continue, clearing his throat awkwardly when she continued to stare in obvious curiosity.

"Were you needing something?" he asked, opening the gate and gazing at her closely.

"Well, I…" her tongue seemed to have tied itself into a knot "…Wanted to return your book. And give you some cookies, since it's my birthday!" she announced with a hint of pride, thrusting the vanilla-scented parcel into his arms.

"Happy birthday!" said Frodo with a genuine smile. "How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-nine," boasted Amaryllis, puffing out her chest. Frodo chuckled.

"We're close in age then," he said. "I'm thirty-one. Thirty-two this September. Bilbo and I share the same birthday."

"Ah," was Amaryllis' only response. Bilbo Baggins' birthday parties were a thing of legend. Amaryllis had been proclaimed too young to attend his hundredth, and petulantly refused to speak to anyone for a week afterwards in protest until her mother took her aside and firmly told her she was being childish.

"Did you enjoy the book?" Amaryllis' thoughts returned to the present with a confused "huh?" to which Frodo repeated his question. Feeling rather foolish, the lie spilled out of her mouth before she could bite it back.

"It was amazing," she choked out, initiating a surprisingly sharp glance from Sam. Frodo, unfortunately, was not done.

"Did you have a favorite?" he asked with genuine curiosity. Amaryllis stuttered helplessly.

"Favorite what? I mean—well, er, I don't really know, you see…" Thankfully, Sam intervened in a moment of heroism.

"What Miss Amaryllis is tryin' to say, Mr. Frodo sir, is that she's embarrassed—"he blinked uncomfortably under her icy glare"—because she never really learned to read, only she was afraid to turn down Mr. Bilbo for risk of bein' rude, if you understand me." Frodo gazed at her carefully, leaving Amaryllis with the uncomfortable feeling that those blue eyes could see straight through her.

"Is that true?" he asked quietly.

"Well, yes," began Amaryllis, unsure whether or not he was angry. "Um, my parents never really thought to teach me to read, but it was so nice of Mr. Bilbo lending me his book that it seemed impolite to refuse. Besides, I would love to learn. I do love listening to stories. My father always said it was the only way to keep me quiet." From the beginnings of childhood through her now waning tweenage years, Amaryllis eagerly gathered any and all tales she could, from the whispers of queerness seeping from the borders of the Old Forest to Buckland to the horror stories of kings long dead now lying still in cold Barrows, waiting to clutch at her with pale fingers and bewitch her into stone.

"I understand," said Frodo, "Though I wish you had told me in the first place. Have you ever asked anyone to teach you?"

"My parents are far too busy to teach me frivolous things I'll never have any practical use for," Amaryllis replied, quoting her father. "Besides, they never learned themselves. My parents aren't dimwits, mind you. Both my mother and father can sew more efficiently than any other hobbits in Hardbottle, and my sisters can embroider the prettiest things. But they just don't see the use of reading for recreational purposes."

"Ah." Frodo gave her an uncomfortably penetrating look. "Well, if you're interested, I think I have a few easier stories from when I was younger. You could look through them if you'd like. I learned a lot from them, and once you understand the basics, reading really isn't that challenging."

"Thank you," Amaryllis said, touched by the offer, "That's very kind of you, though I doubt I could make sense of even the simplest tales. Besides, I wouldn't want to be an intrusion. Here's your book. I'm truly sorry I wasn't honest with you from the start."

"Confessing a weakness is a difficult thing to do," said Frodo earnestly, "And thank you for telling me the truth. If you would like to see the books, feel free to stop by anytime. Bilbo and I could both use the company." His eyes shone with something that might have been hope, and it struck Amaryllis that perhaps it was lonely being heir to the solitary Bilbo Baggins. "Well, I best be going in. It was nice talking to you, Amaryllis. Thank you for the cookies, I'm sure they'll be delicious."

"You're welcome. I hope you enjoy them. I'll be on my way," Amaryllis said, recognizing her dismissal, before turning to Sam. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Likewise, Miss. Have a happy birthday," said Sam with a bright smile that Amaryllis returned with enthusiasm.

"Thank you very much. Good day," she said by way of farewell, before heading back through the gate and on her way to Tuckborough. Frodo watched her retreating form for a quiet moment before disappearing into Bag End.

Tuckborough, located not far from Hobbiton, was most recognized as the location of the Great Smials, ancestral home of the Tooks. They were a series of finely furnished holes, interweaving with many tunnels and passages. Hobbits took a keen interest in genealogy, not only for their own families, but in those of interest as well. Nevertheless, there were few who could keep track of the vast numbers of Tooks that seemed to double every Tuesday, from the Long Cleaves to the direct line of the Thain. Pippin's immediate family was thankfully small enough, and when Amaryllis knocked on the door of the main smial, she assumed the richly dressed sandy-haired hobbit lass that opened it was one of the sisters he had mentioned.

"Good day," said Amaryllis politely. "I'm Amaryllis Bracegirdle, a friend of Pippin's. Is he home? I have a gift for him."

"He is. I believe he's in the dining room. I could maybe go and fetch him, if you'd like?" She was clearly unenthused with dealing with her younger brother's friends, and in her frustration forgot her manners and didn't offer a proper introduction. Amaryllis, fearing she had made a grave error of judgment and that the hobbit lass was not related to Pippin, pressed for one.

"Are you one of his sisters?" she asked. "He mentioned having three."

"Yes, I am. Pimpernel Took, at your service and your family's," said the lass, snapping back to her senses and offering a proper curtsy.

"Likewise," replied Amaryllis, perhaps a little distractedly. She was tired of meeting and dealing with new people, and was fully prepared to go home, Grandmother or no. "May I come in?"

"Of course," said Pimpernel, and Amaryllis stepped into the smial, which was just as well furnished as Bag End, if a bit homelier. "He's this way, just follow me." They set down a hallway adorned with paintings and sketches of various Took relatives before Amaryllis found herself in the dining room. Pippin was at the table, nibbling on a scone and gazing lazily out the window. When he saw her, he leapt to his feet.

"Miss Amaryllis! What a pleasant surprise!" he exclaimed, eyes sparkling. "What brings you here on such a pleasant spring day?"

"I remembered your cookies," said Amaryllis with a slightly cheeky grin, "And thought it fitting to give them to you today, due to it being my birthday!" Pippin bounded towards her and practically snatched the parcel from her hands, breathing deeply the heavenly aroma.

"Dear Amaryllis, surely you are an angel sent to provide comfort for me in these dark times! Oh saintly one, how may I serve to repay your tremendous deed of goodness? For your heart must be purer than—"

"Oh stop it," Amaryllis said with ill-concealed amusement. "I doubt you would be thanking me so profusely had I ruined them. Be glad my mother didn't force me to make them on my own, or you would have ended up with an unsettled stomach. Still, I helped a little, and you might as well appreciate them now. I doubt you will ever wring any baked goods from me ever again."

"You underestimate the wit of a determined Took," Pippin said with a cocky grin. "Be glad that these cookies will likely keep my stomach full for another day. I daresay I could trick even the most stubborn hobbit to whip me up a whole troop of pies in the blink of an eye."

"Perhaps," said Amaryllis, "But if you like the current arrangement of your face I'd advise you to try your manipulations on someone else. I have seen enough of flour for a lifetime, thank you very much."

"One can never see too much flour," Pippin stated wisely through a mouthful of cookie crumbs. "Without it, there would be no lemon-almond cookies and that would be tragic indeed."

"I must agree with you there," said Amaryllis gravely, "Though I suggest you choose different company if you expect me to do all your baking for you. Perhaps you would get along better with one of my sisters, if you're looking for friends with an aptitude for cooking. I would love to see Acacia being persistently pestered for food…"

"No thank you," Pippin replied, wrinkling his nose. "I prefer NOT being constantly yelled at by my friends, thank you very much. I get plenty of that from Ma and Aunt Esmie. 'Don't be so impatient, Pip' they say. I am patient, just not when it comes to my cookies."

"So I've noticed," said Amaryllis dryly before gazing at the cookies longingly. "Would you mind if I took one of those? I haven't had a chance to try them yet." Pippin snatched them out of her reach hastily.

"Keep your greedy paws off!" he snarled. Amaryllis raised her eyebrows in amusement.

"You know, I was considering convincing my mother to make you one of her famous butter cream cakes, but if you're just going to be selfish I'll forget the whole idea…" It was a downright lie, and Pippin could see as much.

"You honestly think I'm that thick? Don't answer that," he added quickly before Amaryllis could give the inevitable response. "Fine, I'll be generous. Take a couple. Two only, mind you!"

Amaryllis happily sunk her teeth into a cookie, musing that maybe baking wasn't such a silly pastime after all. For a peaceful moment, they sat quietly, contentedly chewing the heavenly cookies. Pippin had finished five before Amaryllis was even on her second, letting out a contented burp. She chuckled before responding with one of her own. Pippin raised an eyebrow, grinning.

"You know, Amaryllis, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship," he said, brushing crumbs off his front. Amaryllis laughed, playfully knocking him on the shoulder.

"Kiss-up. Still, I'm flattered. It's nice to know that _someone _appreciates what's important." Pippin nodded absently, biting his lip in deep contemplation. Finally he spoke hesitantly.

"How do you feel about stealing?" Amaryllis choked on her cookie, and Pippin turned a bright red. "I didn't mean it like that! I meant, have you ever stolen anything? When you were younger?" Amaryllis narrowed her eyes suspiciously, attempting to gage what he was on about.

"Why do you care?" she asked, "Though if you're that curious, I have nicked a few things when I was younger. Well, not just a few," she added at Pippin's skeptical look. "Every other week old Hanna Grubb would come spouting that I'd snatched her bread from where it was cooling on the windowsill."

"I thought as much," said Pippin smugly. "You seem like the type."

"What was that supposed to mean?" Amaryllis exclaimed defensively. "I'll have you know I haven't snitched anything since I was in my teens. And I never stole from someone who had less then I did. I do have some morals, you know. Hanna Grubb had far too much bread as it was. I was doing her a favor, diminishing the surplus."

"I'm sure," said Pippin with a roll of his eyes. "I don't-_didn't_" he added quickly at her hard glance "steal from those less fortunate either. So you wouldn't have objections to taking from someone who had an excess of something?"

"I suppose not," replied Amaryllis, "Though I fail to see how this is relevant. And I would like to know what initiated this conversation in the first place. Just tell me what you're up to now, and save me a whole lot of trouble."

"I'm not up to anything," said Pippin, though his cat-that-ate-the-canary grin suggested otherwise. "Just curious is all. Say, do you know how to swim?"

"You certainly have a knack for changing the subject," said Amaryllis. "I do know how to swim. I fell down a well when I was younger and it shook me so badly I taught myself how to stay afloat the next day. I caught a terrible chill because of it."

"That's good," Pippin chirped. "Everyone is so fearful of water these days, it's getting positively ridiculous. Even down in Buckland there are some that avoid the Brandywine ever since…" a dark look passed over his face.

"Ever since what?" asked Amaryllis.

"Never you mind," Pippin said hastily. "I was wondering if maybe you'd like to go swimming with Merry and I next week? It is getting hotter out, and some cool water and fresh air would be a relief."

"Swimming with two lads my age?" said Amaryllis, both eyebrows raised. "That'll get my mother's knickers in a twist." Pippin sighed exasperatedly.

"Perhaps I should rephrase that. Amaryllis, would you like to go swimming _properly clothed _with Merry and me next week?" he repeated.

"Well, it will still get my mother's knickers in a twist, but I don't see any reason why not," replied Amaryllis. "I don't actually have to tell her where I'm going, after all."

"That's the spirit," Pippin said with a bright grin. "Do you know the Bywater pool? Will Wednesday do for you?"

"Mm hmm," said Amaryllis. "Maybe around ten o'clock, if it suits you."

"That suits me just fine," Pippin replied, and Amaryllis barely missed the Tookish gleam in his eyes that had been known to make full-grown hobbits run away screaming. "Ten o'clock, Wednesday." Amaryllis gave him a short nod.

"Well, I best be leaving. It's getting late, and I have a long walk home ahead of me. Enjoy the rest of your cookies! I'll see you next week." Pippin remembered his manners and rose to see her to the door, though she tried to brush him away. They walked back down the hall before he bid her farewell. Amaryllis pushed open the door (which was painted a cheerful yellow) and set for home under the declining sun.

When Amaryllis reached her smial, the sky was streaked with orange and a breeze left over from winter had her teeth chattering. She had taken her time on her walk, stopping to observe the comings and goings of Hobbiton, picking a couple of stray flowers, and just closing her eyes and breathing deeply. Now, she wished she had hurried. She was shivering, tired from all of her skipping and leaping, and hungry (two cookies were hardly enough to satisfy the stomach of a growing hobbit). She was immediately greeted by a disgruntled cry of "AMA-RRRRRRRR-LLIS!" which could mean only one thing: Her grandmother was still home. Letting out a small groan, she accepted her fate and trudged in, looking as if she had been sentenced to death.

"Hello, Grandma," she greeted tiredly. Her Grandmother was perched in her rocking chair (indeed, it was _her _rocking chair. No one else had ever sat in it), silver hair coifed in an elaborate twist, and a characteristic scowl firmly in place. Asphodel Bracegirdle, extremely old and exceptionally stern, had a tiring life. Married as soon as she came of age, she ended up having seven children, each unrulier than the last. Her husband passed away during a nasty epidemic of influenza in 2940, leaving her to care for her numerous rambunctious children on her own. Thankfully, they all calmed down eventually, but she still harbored a bitterness towards the childhood she missed out on, and thoroughly enjoyed making her grandchildren feel her misery.

"Is that a way to walk into the house, girl?" she immediately barked. "Spine straight! Shoulders back!" Amaryllis stiffened, adopting the preferred pin-straight posture. "That's better," said her Grandmother. "What in the name of Eru did you do to your hair, girl? In my day, self-respecting hobbits never ran around looking like a bird's nest was atop their head." Acacia, quietly working on her embroidery in the corner, let out a small giggle. To Amaryllis' chagrin, Grandma didn't reprimand _her_.

"Hello, Grandma," she repeated in a muted monotone. "I hope you're feeling well."

"I'd be feeling a lot better if you'd speak up for once! Good gracious girl, is your tongue tied in a knot?" snapped her Grandmother. "When I was your age, young hobbits learned to talk with dignity and grace, and never was a word misheard. Even simple 'pleases' and 'thank-yous' sound a good deal nicer when spoken with pride."

"Would you like some cake, Ma?" Mrs. Bracegirdle called from the kitchen, thankfully ending the lecture before it could drag on.

"Yes dear," said Asphodel, "Though I certainly hope you didn't botch the recipe this time. Where do you think you're going girl?" Amaryllis stopped in her tracks, halfway down the hall in a hopeful attempt to escape to her room. "I'm not through with you yet. Hurry up with the cake, will you Azalea? Eru knows a woman my age deserves a good bite to eat now and then."

"You'd get a good bite to eat more often if you cooked for yourself," Amaryllis muttered, a little hypocritically. Asphodel's ears, aged as they were, only got the gist of her comment.

"What was that girl?" she barked.

"I said I could make you something else, if you'd like," Amaryllis said quickly, hoping to be sent to the kitchen and away from her overbearing Grandmother.

"I wouldn't put anything you touched in my mouth, girl. Goodness knows I'm lucky enough to not be dead yet, and I'm not pushing my luck with your cooking," Asphodel snapped.

"Be nice Ma, Amaryllis was trying to be helpful," called Mrs. Bracegirdle from the kitchen.

"Helpful or no, it doesn't change the fact that the girl is a hazard! She could end up killing someone with her lack of skill in the kitchen."

"Hopefully you," Amaryllis added helpfully, now more than a little miffed by the constant jabs at her lack of culinary abilities. Her grandmother turned an ugly purple color, before letting out a small choke of shock.

"AMARYLLIS BRACEGIRDLE!" her mother immediately roared from the kitchen. "You apologize to Grandma this instant or Eru forbid, you'll feel the consequences through next week." Amaryllis winced, protectively covering her backside.

"I'm sorry Grandma," she said sulkily, sounding just sincere enough to stay out of further trouble. "I didn't mean it." She knew she had been disrespectful, but she was sick of receiving the brunt of her Grandmother's sour attitude, especially since all of her comments held enough truth in them to make her feel small and inadequate.

"Well, I never!" gasped Asphodel. "When I was your age, my bottom would have been smarting for a month if I had been so blatantly disrespectful. Haven't you even tried to teach her any manners, Azalea? She needs to learn when to shut that mouth of hers and behave herself."

"Believe me Ma, I've tried," said Mrs. Bracegirdle ruefully. "I thought she had finally calmed down, but she's been an absolute terror these past weeks. If anyone can knock some sense into her, it's you." Amaryllis let out an indignant huff.

"I am _not _a terror! And I have plenty of sense! Just recently I…" she tried to remember an instance of showing good judgment and came up with nothing. Her Grandmother gave her a hard luck.

"You keep quiet, girl! I'm telling you, Azalea, marry her off now and save yourself a lot of trouble. The only way to deal with the unruly ones is to give them children of their own to take care of. Then see how much time they have to create mischief!" Amaryllis shuddered in horror at this pronouncement. She opened her mouth in protest, thought better of it (her grandmother was a fierce opponent in an argument) and got to her feet with a huff instead.

"May I head up to my room, please?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"Go ahead, dear," said her mother, eager to avoid any further trouble. "Make sure you wash your face before you go to sleep! We can't have your pores clogging." Amaryllis flushed a little, remembering her awkward teen years, full of too-gangly limbs and horrid red spots. She was still too gangly, unfortunately, but the spots were now nonexistent, thanks to constant nagging by Mrs. Bracegirdle.

"Yes, mother," she said resignedly before trudging to her room, swallowing a bubble of hurt that her mother never protested to the idea of "marrying her off". It was an empty threat, since hobbits didn't arrange marriages, but it was still damaging to her pride (and her heart) that her own mother thought she was such a nuisance that she needed some _boy _to control her. To her surprise, Acacia was sitting on her bed, staring out the window absently. "What are you doing in here?" Amaryllis asked a little rudely. Acacia rolled her eyes.

"Well, excuse me for disrupting your sacred nightly routine with my presence," she snapped.

"What do you want, Acacia?" Amaryllis said tiredly. To her surprise, her older sister's eyes softened.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "I heard Grandma giving you a rough time." Amaryllis started to reply with the usual "I'm fine", but something else spilled out at the last second.

"Acacia, how come nobody ever thinks you're a nuisance? she asked, before realizing that perhaps that conveyed the wrong message. "Not that you are a nuisance, of course. It's just that I'm always messing up one way or another, while you always seem so…oh, I don't know…put together?"

"Huh? Oh, well…" Acacia was a bit taken aback. "I suppose I'm not. I just learned how to pretend to know what I was doing, and the rest fell into place. I may know how to stay out of trouble, but I could never be honest like you. You always say what you really think, even when it's not entirely appropriate. I sometimes wish I had the courage to be like that." Amaryllis bit her lip awkwardly, not sure what to make of the semi-compliment.

"Er, thanks, I guess," she said with a hesitant smile, deciding to further confide in her annoying big sister. "Do you ever feel like you don't really have a place?" she asked, trying to work out the words for what she was trying to convey. "Like the whole world is moving too fast for you and wandering aimlessly is easier than trying to keep up with it?" Acacia cocked her head thoughtfully.

"I think we all feel like that, Ama. At a certain point though, we either learn to accept that we're always going to be lost, or go out and attempt to find our way. I don't think you've reached either point yet, but you will when the time is right."

"I doubt," Amaryllis pouted. "I'll stay here and be stuck pestering you forever." She let out a snort. "I'm sorry, by the way. For always teasing you. I guess it's my way of telling you how much I love you," she added with a cheesy grin.

"You're certainly acting like a little ray of sunshine," laughed Acacia. "I love you too, even if you are a bit of a pest. You are my baby sister, it's your job to annoy me." Amaryllis mock-scowled.

"I'm not a pest," she protested. "You just don't appreciate my humor."

"I don't think there's a single hobbit in the Shire who appreciates your so called humor," Acacia kindly pointed out.

"That's not true!" exclaimed Amaryllis. "Pippin appreciates my humor! And Merry would too, I suppose, if I saw him again."

"I'm sure," said Acacia with a roll of her eyes. "It's getting late, you should be getting to bed soon. I believe Grandma's leaving, and I best go and see her off. Unless of course you would like to…" Amaryllis shook her head wildly. "I thought so. Goodnight Ama. Happy Birthday."

"'Night," Amaryllis replied, suddenly aware that she was exhausted. She rubbed her eyes tiredly as Acacia retreated down the hall, the silhouette of her grandmother's rocking chair barely visible, creaking slowly back and forth against the candle-illuminated window.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.**

**Author's Note: So, there we go! Did anyone get the Casablanca reference? I hoped you enjoyed that little look into Amaryllis' smial, as well as Sam's introduction. The next chapter will feature both Merry and Pippin, more Bilbo and Frodo, and perhaps a brief cameo by Farmer Maggot (or at least his dogs), so stay tuned, and please read and review!**

**omnonlegolas: Thanks for your two reviews! I'm sorry it took a while to update, but I've been working and editing this one slowly. No Malls in Middle Earth will be updated soon as well, just had a bit of writer's block on how to handle the breaking of the Fellowship. On the bright side, summer's coming, which means lots of pointless couch-potato time for me and lots of updates for you guys. I'm going with a combination of book and movie verse for this, so Tom Bombadil, the Barrow Downs, and The Old Forest will all be included. Hope you continue to read and review!**

**Guest: Thanks for the review, and I hope you continue to read! ^_^**

**will zona: Thank you so very much for your review. I'm a huge Frodo fangirl, but there seems to be a sad lack of Frodo/OC stories on this site, so I just figured I'd write a really slow, long one of my own! I decided on using a combination of book and movie verse, so hopefully you'll stay tuned and continue to read.**

**Panthour: First of all, I love your penname! Second, thanks for the nice long, juicy review! I love pre and post Quest fics, so this is definitely going to include both and probably drag on for a ridiculously long amount of time. I'm glad to find another lover of the slow romance, since there seem to be so many "love at first sight" and "Let's get married by chapter three" fics out there these days. I'm doing my best to keep everyone in character, but being a fourteen-year-old fangirl rather than the great Professor Tolkien, I apologize in advance for any slip-ups. Thanks again for the review, and I sincerely hope you'll continue to read!**

**Hinderlane: Thanks for the review! I'm always searching for Frodomances, but it's so rare to find a good one (and even harder to find a completed one) that I decided to write one of my own! I'm glad you like Amaryllis. I always struggle with creating believable, non Mary-Sue characters, but so far I like how she's coming along. I love all the hobbits (though my fangirl heart is wholly devoted to Frodo), so rest assured that they will all get plenty of screen-time. That line was actually unintentional, but now that you mentioned it I do remember it from the book. Used to describe Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, right? Anyway, thanks again for the review, and I hope you continue to read!**


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